Just Eight Months Old...

by Tori Carrington

  Regaining her breath, Hannah said, “If it helps any, El hasn’t even paid me for the privilege.”

  A broken hall lamp lay in pieces on the floor. Her gaze darted to Chad, but he looked none the worse for wear. Stokes must have been the one who had taken the hit.

  Chad stood a few feet away in a shooter’s stance, his legs spread shoulder length apart, his arms stretched out in front of him as he aimed his gun straight at Stokes’s chest. Hannah swallowed. The only problem was the bullet would have to go through her before it could rip through its target.

  From the entrance of the kitchen, Lisa Furgeson moved, seizing their attention.

  Jack eyed her.

  “Don’t give it a second thought, Stokes.” Chad stepped closer, playing a dangerous game of chicken as he continued to aim his gun at Jack’s forehead. “She’s ours.”

  “Now, now, you wouldn’t shoot me, would you, Hogan? Not your ole pal Jack Stokes? Especially after all the trouble I’ve gone to.”

  Chad stepped ever slowly closer. He shifted the safety off his gun in support of his willingness to use it. Hannah felt panic begin to swell in her stomach.

  Jack clucked his tongue. “I daresay you would do it, wouldn’t you?”

  “You’re damn right I would.” Chad waved the gun toward the door. “Now why don’t you just turn around and leave the way you came in?”

  Jack clucked his tongue. “Can’t do that.” He motioned his head toward Furgeson. “Not without her.”

  “The way I see it, Jack, you don’t have much choice in the matter.”

  His deep-throated laugh filled the room. “Come on, Chad. Put that thing away before somebody gets hurt.”

  Chad took another cautionary step forward. Hannah drew a deep, steadying breath—until she felt cold, un-yielding metal encircle her right wrist, then ratchet close. She tried to jerk her hand free, but it was securely bound. Stokes yanked her arm behind her back, searching for her other wrist. She refused to give it to him.

  “Do it!” he snarled into her ear, cocking his own weapon where it poked against her ribs.

  Hannah immediately put her other hand behind her back.

  “You don’t know how much I’ve wanted to do this, Hannah, luv,” Jack whispered into her ear. None too gently he fastened the other cuff to her free wrist. “You messed me around one time too many when you handcuffed me to that bar back in Queens.”

  Lisa Furgeson started backing farther into the kitchen.

  “Oh, no, you don’t, lady.” Before Hannah knew what was happening, Stokes pushed her aside. She stumbled to her knees, losing her balance without the assistance of her arms. In two strides, he grabbed a handful of Lisa’s shirt, yanking her back into the main hall. “You are not going anywhere until I tell you to.”

  Hannah jerked her head up to see Chad coming after her, concern marring his handsome face. Behind him, Stokes shoved a still-bound Lisa into the closet, then started after Chad.

  “No!”

  Hannah flashed on the scene at Persky’s house, when her scream had distracted Chad. But this time it served its purpose as a warning. Chad swung on Stokes before the Aussie could hit him with the butt of his gun. The two men faced off, both holding their firearms on the other.

  Hannah struggled to a sitting position, yanking on the cuffs binding her.

  “Drop the gun, Stokes,” Chad ordered.

  “Not on your life, mate.”

  Hannah was too far away to be of much help in the situation, but suspected Chad didn’t need her help anyway. In fact, her mind fastened on the way he had stood before, and the way he stood now, in a traditional shooter’s stance. She’d been taught the position at the academy. Feet shoulders length apart. Arms outstretched with one hand on the gun, the other underneath, supporting the weight for a cleaner shot. Chad had probably learned the technique in the Marines.

  Jack Stokes, on the other hand, showed no technique whatsoever. Too cocky, he stood relaxed and held the gun with one hand, the weight of the revolver causing his wrist to turn a little so he almost held the gun horizontally. With his other hand, he wiped sweat from his forehead.

  “There ain’t no way in hell I’m gonna let you two take this one, so just sod off, Hogan,” Jack said, and shrugged. “Your call. Either you let me take her the easy way…or the hard.”

  “And the hard way would entail exactly what?” Chad asked.

  “Well, I’ll just have to shoot you, won’t I?”

  Hannah leaned against the wall and used it to support herself as she struggled to her feet.

  By inches, Chad closed the distance separating him from Stokes, his revolver almost muzzle to muzzle with Jack’s. Hannah stopped her movements, watching as Chad used his support hand to slap Stokes’s revolver, forcing his aim at the opposite wall. The report of a round ripped through the house, drowning out even the sound of the TV. Stokes cursed, and Chad was all over him in a matter of seconds, pushing first one gun, then the other, away from the fray. Hannah lifted herself to a full standing position and kicked both guns even farther away.

  “God rot you, Hogan!” Stokes said after taking a particularly nasty-looking fist to the nose. The two men tumbled into the living room, half falling onto the steps leading to the second floor.

  Hannah pulled on the cuffs biting into her wrists, even though she knew better.

  The sound of metal teeth grinding against each other seized her attention. But it wasn’t her cuffs that had made the sound. She rushed into the living room to find Chad cursing ripely and pulling against a pair of handcuffs secured to the spindle of the stair railing.

  “Damn you, Stokes, unlock these blasted things!” he spat out.

  The Aussie stood back, rubbing a scrape on his chin.

  “Not if you got down on your hands and knees and begged me, mate.” He chuckled. “Got you there, didn’t I? A man with a plan, I am.”

  He spotted Hannah where she stood in the doorway. “You,” he said, “get over here.”

  When she didn’t budge, he shot to her side and dragged her to the stairs. She had a choice between falling to the floor or doing what he said. She did what he said, and was ready when he opened one of the cuffs. Swinging her leg around, she tried to kick him to force him off balance. Stokes effectively caught the limb and yanked it, forcing her to the floor. She struggled to sit up and Stokes threaded the cuffs through the spindles near the foot of the stairs and re-trapped her free hand. She gave the metal shackles a violent jerk, but the wood was solid.

  “I got Hogan’s cuffs.” He smiled, clearly impressed by his clever work. “Where’s the key to your cuffs, Hannah?” He felt in her skirt pocket. “Got it.” He held it up for her to inspect, then disappeared into the hall. Moments later he stood in the entryway, Lisa Furgeson’s bound arm in his. He plopped his battered cowboy hat back on his head, a grin greeting Hannah from underneath the rim.

  “G’day, McGee. Give my regards to that beauty of a daughter of yours. And, oh, no hard feelings, huh?”

  Chapter Eleven

  Hannah gave her handcuffs a final yank, then sank back in defeat to the floor next to Chad. The thick wooden spindles were solidly attached to the railing. No amount of wrenching or off balance kicking had succeeded in budging the one to which she was shackled. She sighed, wishing the television remote were nearby so she could at least turn the blaring thing off.

  “There’s nothing more humiliating than being bound by your own cuffs,” Chad said.

  She blew her hair from her face. “Technically these aren’t mine.” She smiled. “Furgeson has that honor. These must be Stokes’s.”

  Lying beside her, Chad grimaced. “I should have shot him when I had the chance.”

  Hannah skimmed his disheveled tangle of light brown hair to where the telltale stubble was beginning to show again on his strong jaw. It was unfair for him to look so good after what he’d gone through. Even with his hands bound above his head, he tempted her touch. She swallowed. Especially with his hands bound above
his head.

  Frowning, she tugged her gaze away from him. The only way she would survive Chad Hogan was if she stayed as far away from him as possible. A dubious task, given their present predicament.

  She closed her eyes tightly. Why were things always so complicated? What logical explanation could there be for the feelings roaring within her? One moment she wanted nothing better than to see Chad walk off into the sunset—alone. The next she wanted to hold him and feel his skillful hands exploring every part of her body. To watch him bond with Bonny in the way all fathers bonded with their children.

  “Tell me, Chad, how did we ever get into this?”

  “It all began when Lisa heard a noise,” he said wryly.

  She jabbed her knee into his. “That’s not what I meant.”

  Ten feet away the television blared a preview of what was coming up on the late evening news. Hannah ignored it and looked at him.

  “If I could take everything back, do it all over again…” She pulled in a long breath then blew it out soundlessly.

  “You would do everything exactly the same way.” Chad tapped his boot against her shoe. “We both would.” He fell silent. “No matter what happened, what we had was special.” His voice lowered. “I realize that now.”

  An ache took up residence in Hannah’s heart. There was a sincerity in his gray eyes she’d never witnessed before. A hum of regret in his voice that made his words nearly inaudible. She only wished his realization had come a year and a half earlier. Even a few hours ago. Now…

  Well, now she had experienced too much pain, endured too many lonely nights, had her hopes dashed one too many times, to allow herself to trust him again. At least not with her heart.

  “What’s that?” Chad eyed a six-inch plastic tube that must have fallen to the floor during Hannah’s struggle with Stokes. Inside were square, green objects less than a half inch in diameter.

  “Microprocessor chips.”

  He frowned at her. “Where did you get them?”

  “Lisa gave them to me earlier.”

  “Let me guess. Persky and Furgeson were distributing these through PlayCo.”

  “In one of PlayCo’s toy telephone models to be more precise,” Hannah said. “And it was just Persky.”

  He stared at her. “What do you mean just Persky? Both Persky and Furgeson were arrested, Hannah.”

  She shrugged. “Well, you could say Lisa and I had an interesting conversation. A very interesting conversation.” She swallowed. “It was about men.”

  Chad raised his brows. “Men?”

  “Yes, men.” She moved the plastic tube with her shoe. “Namely the ones who made her look responsible for smuggling these through PlayCo. Well, not just these. From what I understand there are two boxes full of them still in toy telephones in a storage locker across town. A locker Lisa was only too happy to give me the key to. From what she told me, an eight-by-ten-inch sheet of these chips are worth—”

  “I know what they’re worth, McGee. Suffice it to say we’re talking big money.” Chad’s gaze moved from her bare ankle to her face. “How did you get Furgeson to give them to you?”

  “It was easy, really. Lisa wasn’t involved in any of it. The smuggling, I mean. She stumbled across the ring when she worked the third shift one night to get a rush order out. She took two of three boxes, trying to figure out what she should do, then she and Persky were arrested.”

  “You bought that?” Hannah stiffened and shifted the cuffs around her wrists. “Yes, I bought it. And for a very good reason. The girl we saw earlier, the one you let go at the airport with Lisa’s sister-in-law? That’s Lisa’s daughter, not her niece.”

  “Oh.”

  “Oh” about summed up her reaction to the news as well.

  For long moments neither of them said anything more. Then the sound of Chad shifting captured her attention. She watched him test the limits of his movements then aim the toe of his right boot at an end table seven feet away. The dark lamp fell to the carpet along with a vase filled with dried flowers and the remote. The remote!

  “Nudge it over this way,” she said when he couldn’t quite get a toehold on it.

  He did and together they brought the remote control to knee level. Eyeing what seemed like a hundred buttons, Hannah watched as Chad jabbed his knee near the top. He missed the power switch, but managed to hit Mute. The house was suddenly, blessedly silent.

  Hannah sighed, relieved that she didn’t have to compete with the television. “So what do we do now?”

  She felt Chad’s gaze on her, but refused to look at him. Instead she feigned interest in the voiceless images flickering across the television screen.

  “Any chance Stokes will have an attack of conscience and come back?” Chad asked.

  She forgot not to look at him and smiled. “Oh, I’d say zero to nil.”

  His gray eyes twinkled at her as he shrugged. “Then I guess we wait until someone stumbles across us.”

  Hannah began calculating the likelihood of that, then swept the thought from her mind. She’d only work herself up into a panic at the thought of being out of contact with Bonny…and spending so much uninterrupted time with Chad.

  She looked at him. Then again, with no bail-jumpers to stake out, and with him unable to run for any doors, maybe now was the time to clear the air between them. Ask those questions she may not have dared before.

  He looked at her, questions of his own filling his eyes, and she turned her head away. Coward.

  She cleared her throat and said instead, “I wonder what chaos Bonny’s wreaking on poor Betty right now.” She thought of the detailed instructions and food she’d left behind, hoping her daughter wasn’t too miserable in the unfamiliar surroundings.

  “I’m sure she’s fine, Hannah,” Chad said quietly. Her cuffs clanked as she shifted. “Betty’s kids seemed intrigued by the addition of another hell-raiser. Bonny herself didn’t even seem that interested in our leaving by the time she got an eyeful of the toys she’d get to mangle.”

  He was right, of course. Her daughter seemed overjoyed at the prospect of exploring her new environs, and Betty’s apartment behind the office emerged a virtual child’s paradise, what with three children of her own. Relief suffused her muscles and she lay back a little easier.

  “You’re a great mother, you know?”

  Hannah looked at Chad, her heart dipping low in her chest at his words. She felt her cheeks heat and smiled. “Thanks.” She didn’t know why his compliment should please her so, but it did. “I used to worry a lot, you know, when I first brought her home.” She briefly caught her bottom lip between her teeth. “There I was, this new mother, with this new baby, and all I could think of is how much I wished an operating manual was sent home with Bonny. It took me a good week before her crying didn’t threaten to send me into an anxiety attack. To get comfortable with my ability to feed her—was it enough, too much—then there was changing her diapers. Which was the right brand? Should I be using natural cotton instead of disposable? Oh, and forget the first time she got a cold.” She could laugh now, but it hadn’t been very funny then. “I rushed her to the emergency room, convinced she had contracted some life-threatening illness. Ended up spending the night there. By the time we finally got home, I was as sick as she was.”

  Chad was quiet. She looked at him, wondering if she had rambled on too long. Recently she’d noticed that if anyone asked the simplest question about her daughter, she’d launch into a long answer that would leave her wondering if she hadn’t shared too much. It made her worry that she was turning into one of those obsessed mothers whose conversations never wandered far from their children.

  Then again, she was an obsessed mother—and proud of it.

  “I never thought I’d be a father again,” he finally said.

  “I don’t know, I guess I always knew I wanted to be a mother. I just didn’t think it would happen so soon. Not that I regret having Bonny. I don’t. Not for a minute.” She gave a long sigh. “I
couldn’t imagine my life without her in it anymore, you know?”

  There was a long silence, then Chad said so quietly she nearly didn’t hear him, “Yes, I do know.”

  She probed his face, noting the sincerity there, the genuine emotion for their daughter. “Chad, why did you bring me flowers?”

  The question was out before she had a chance to think about it, before she had an opportunity to stop herself from asking it. Rather than feeling imprudent, though, she felt relieved that it was out.

  Chad didn’t even blink. “Did you read the card?” Hannah felt her cheeks heat again. “No. I…” She what? Her reasons for not crossing that room, not picking up those roses, were as sound as ever, but she didn’t feel up to sharing them. The hurt was too fresh.

  Chad awkwardly got to his feet, twisting his body this way and that until he was standing. Hannah looked up at him. He appeared to be trying to get something from his jeans pocket, but couldn’t quite manage the task, what with his hands being secured to a railing post above waist level.

  His gaze met hers, then he almost uncertainly looked away. “Do you think you can reach my pocket?”

  Hannah mimicked his movements of moments ago until she stood next to him.

  “No, not that one. The other one,” Chad said, swiveling his hips to give her access to his front pocket.

  Trying to ignore the soft denim of his jeans, the slight scent of soap that clung to his warm skin, she slid two fingers into his pocket, then slid them out again. A small, dark blue velvet pouch fell to the carpet between their feet.

  Hannah stared at it, her heart beating heavily in her chest.

  “I should have done this a long time—I mean, if I’d had a brain in my head—I should have offered to do the right thing the moment I saw Bonny.”

  Thunderstruck, she watched him struggle to get his point across, his thick throat convulsing around a swallow.

  “Aw, hell, Hannah, if you had read the card on those flowers…”